


Please Don't Say You Love Me, Cause I Might Not Say It Back

by zankiefanatic



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Reconciliation, dream - Freeform, post 5x12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-04 01:52:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5315810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zankiefanatic/pseuds/zankiefanatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the only Gallavich scene season 6 needs. </p>
<p>Prompt: The honor is mine. I hope that you will like it. Post 5x12, Ian dreams that Mickey has bipolar disorder, and that he has broke up with him. The scenes that he is dreaming are the same on season 5 only that Mickey is doing what Ian has done. He wakes up, realizing the mistake he has done. What do you think?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please Don't Say You Love Me, Cause I Might Not Say It Back

**Author's Note:**

> because I'm angry about Mickey Milkovich being shit on constantly and I'm angry that their love which was real and strong and beautiful was turned into a fucking joke and this is my only way to cope. These babies are beautiful and their love deserves some fucking respect. So here.

When the fog clears he just feels disoriented and shaky. It's like one of those body cams that shows what you're seeing. It's trembling and hard to follow. But he knows that he's here because it's not like before when the weight of the depression was suffocating him day in and day out. He's awake and all that's left it to deal with the shit in front of him. He goes back to work with Fiona. He takes the pills and he sits through the quivering and the slight jumbling of his brain. He tries to breathe and walk and eat. All normal things. All things that everyone can do just fine, that he used to do just fine.

The only thing he doesn't do is the one thing he knows he should've. He doesn't call Mickey. He doesn't go explain himself. In Ian's mind Mickey is still better off without him. So is Yevgeny, and Mandy, and Svetlana. Sometimes at night he thinks back to the times where they had built their own family. Svetlana cooking dinner and yelling in Russian. Yevgeny crawling to him with the biggest smile and those adorable baby blues that matched another person he loved. Mickey. The feel of his lips on his skin or laugh in his ear. How beautiful and amazing and tough he was. How he wasn't his to have anymore. He missed him so fucking much. But he just knew in his heart that Mickey was better off without him.

"Hey sweetface you okay?"

Ian looked up from the dishes he'd been in the middle of clearing before stopping to think about Mickey. Think about when his life used to mean something because he had someone that mattered.

He tried to smile but it felt all wrong on his face. He was doing better; he really was, some days just felt harder than others.

"Just . . . thinkin' about stuff."

She nodded squeezing his arm warmly. "Good stuff or bad stuff?"

"Both. Used to be good. Used to be really good Fi."

"This got anything to do with the he-who-should-not-be-named with knuckle tats?"

He didn't meet her eye, and that was the only answer she needed.

"You could still talk to him. I see Svet at the Alibi with Vee all the time. He's still here Ian."

He shook his head sadly. "Nah, he's better off. They are all. Nobody should have to deal with a side effect."

"Hey, you are not a side effect you hear me? I'm serious Ian. Everyone fucks up. Especially us Gallaghers. It's bad parenting. We just gotta learn from our mistakes and keep going. And you kept going. You're _not_ a side effect. We all have our shit. Mickey wanted to deal with that shit."

It hurt to hear his name. Hence the whole "he-who-should-not-be-named" thing.

"I gotta get back to work. Pullin' a double today." He mumbled.

Fiona lets him leave, but keeps sending nervous glances his way every time he appears from the kitchen for more dishes.

He goes home that night and eats the grilled cheese Debbie made him and takes his meds earlier than he needs, so he can go to sleep. Everyone's staring back and forth from each other to Ian anyway and he figures disappearing for a while might make them worry less.

Ian crawled into bed and not for the first time was reminded of who he used to share the covers with, who he'd pushed out of the sheets instead of pulling back into them. Everything was reminding him of Mickey that day so it made sense that his dreams would enter that same fucked up reality.

All of a sudden he's sitting in front of Mickey like he had what felt like so long about, but now their roles are flipped.

_"What the fuck's wrong with him?" He whispered._

_Not that he didn't know. Of course he knew._

_Mandy and he watched on as Mickey sat the table, every gun and weapon in the Milkovich house sprawled out before him. He was cleaning and scrubbing every piece. He took them apart and put them back together, a slight twitch appearing in his movements._

_Ian felt scared, felt hurt. There's an incessant need for Mickey to be okay. That's all that he wants in that moment, is just for him to feel better._

And then there's that moment….

_"Mick where the fuck did you get this?" He mumbled fingering the cash._

_Mickey shrugged nonchalantly. "Did a porno."_

_"You did what?! Are you out of your fucking mind?!"_

_"Guy offered me five hundred, but I talked him up to six."_

_Ian spluttered. "So some random guys asks you to do a porno and you think, yea, that's a good idea?!"_

_"Ian the guy I did the scene with said he was clean, relax."_

_"YOU DIDN'T USE A RUBBER?!"_

_He smiles at him, fucking smiles. "Relax, fuckin' psycho."_

_Ian pulls away and there's that fear again, there's that knot in his stomach and in his throat. Something is wrong. Mickey isn't okay and that hurts him. He loves him. God he loves him so much, and the only thing in the world that he wants for Mickey is happiness. What's before him isn't that. How can he be happy when his mind is so clearly tainted? When right and wrong have become twisted and dark? How can they be happy?_

_"You gotta get help Mick. You need help. Like a fuckin' psych ward or something."_

_And then he's gone and Yevgeny is gone and that fear that once was just little bubbles here and there plagues him all the time. It's the worst fear he's ever known and there's absolutely no way to cope. 122. That's how many times he calls him. 57. That's how many times he leaves a voicemail. Zero. That's how many times Mickey picks up. There's crying and drinking until he can't see straight. There's pain. So much pain. He's just really fucking scared._

_They find him in Terra Haute. Yevgeny's okay. But Mickey isn't. He looks like a zombie, barely able to move on his feet or be aware of his surroundings. Regardless Ian grabs onto him and struggles to contain his sobs. He finds that just the act of holding him makes the pain go away. For a just a second he's able to ignore what's happening, what's wrong. And he knows in that moment that it doesn't matter. Terry. South side. The army. Bi-polar disorder. Nothing could keep him away._

_He tries to help. They stay at the Gallagher house away from Yevgeny and Svetlana and Ian does everything in his power. He helps him with his meds, gets vitamins to for the limp dick situation and gives all the support he can give. He tries to love him, but all it seems to do is hurt him. They hurt each other physically and then they fuck, but nothing gets resolved. He's still scared. Mickey's still pulling away and away until he's gone again and it hurts. It hurts so bad. It's a blur of emotions all dark and depressing. He feels helpless and distorted._

At the end they stand and they face each other, each of them looking tired and fed up. His heart is racing and his stomach in his throat and everything Mickey's saying doesn't make any sense.

_"You used to love me. Now you don't even know who I am . . . Shit I don't know who I am half the time." He mumbled. "You don't owe me anything."_

_"I love you."_

It's simple. It's true and it matters. But not to Mickey. He's just . . . empty.

_"The hell does that even mean Gallagher?"_

_"It means we take care of each other. Thick and thin. Sickness and health. All that shit."_

_He's getting frantic, because it isn't hard to see where this is going. It's not hard to see him pulling away. But it feels like he's tugging on the knife to Ian's heart. Every yank hurts him deeper. He can't breathe properly, his eyes are burning and he wants to reach out for Mickey, but there's no point. There's nothing._

_"This is it… This is you breaking up with me."_

_"Yea." He nods. "It is."_

He wants to beg, wants to fall to his knees and gasp out because the pain is just completely unbearable. And as he does, as he cries and sobs it all fades away. Mickey is still gone. He's still alone. But now he knows what he's done, as if seeing it through fresh eyes. He stares up at the ceiling shaky fingertips wiping away unshed tears. There's only one thing on his mind. _Mickey._

"I just think maybe we should try to get him back to the clinic. See if maybe they can adjust his dosage." Fiona sighed.

Lip snorted. "All the meds in the world aren't gonna make him forget Mickey, Fi. He knows he fucked up, and he's lost his shit over a lot less. Mickey's always gonna be a soft spot for him."

"Yea but—hey kiddo what are you doing up?"

Ian ignored both of them slipping on his jacket and struggling with shoes.

"Gotta talk to Mickey."

"Ian it's late. I—I don't think that's such a good idea right now, you've already taken your meds."

He turned to look at her and his eyes were alive for the first time in months. The fog was gone and Ian was awake and ready to fight. He wasn't giving up Mickey without a fight.

"I'm going. He's Mickey."

Fiona went to reach forward, but Lip stopped her giving Ian the time to slip out the door.

It was another round of déjà vu as Ian ran for the Milkovich house. This time it wasn't Mickey running or some fucked up dream, just him constantly chasing something good. Mickey was good. And he couldn't believe he'd given all that up.

Stomping up the steps his fists hammered at the door and he was suddenly reminded of Monica's reappearance. Of needing Mickey like he needed air. Only it wasn't his mom's mistakes, they were his and he had to take some accountability for it.

"Who is it?!" Someone deep within in the house asked.

And then there it was.

"I don't know, but it better be the fuckin' police or they're endin' up in a body bag."

The relief of Mickey's voice washed over him like a tidal wave. He'd spend so much time repressing that love that it all came swarming back at once. Mickey was everything. Ian loved him with his entire being, and he thought that he had been helping him, had given him the out he wanted. But if his dream had taught him anything it was that there was no out. Mickey would always be there and he would always be there. Through thick and thin. Sickness and health. He'd got a little sick and things had gotten a little thick, but he didn't wanna give up. He didn't wanna give Mickey.

The door opened and Mickey froze at the panting figure before him. They hadn't seen each other in months.

"H—Hey Mick."

The door started to close and Ian's hand shot out to stop it.

"Unless you wanna lose that hand I recommend you step the _fuck_ back Gallagher." He spat.

Ian's face fell as the sharp heat of Mickey's words. He was angry and rightfully so.

"I can't do that. I need to talk to you. _Please_?"

"I don't give a shit what you need any more than you gave a shit about me when you stepped all over me like the trash I am."

Mickey pushed again and Ian's fingers dug into the wood pushing back hard.

"I know. I know what I did and what I said. I know I don't deserve you or your forgiveness but I feel like I woke up today. M—my meds for the first time they're not clouding me over. I can see and I truly understand what I did to you now, and if I don't tell you right now that I'm sorry than I'm never gonna forgive myself. I—I'm afraid that I'm never gonna feel this close to right again. I need you to know that I'm sorry Mickey please just let me explain!"

There was commotion behind Mickey and then Svetlana was in the doorway feasting a downright scornful glare at Ian. Before either of them could say anything she was slapping him hard across the mouth.

"Jesus Lana." Mickey muttered arms wrapping tight around to contain her rage

"Orange boy shits on family. You make baby cry. You make shitty husband shittier, and you leave all of us. And then you come back and you think you have right to look any of us in face?!" She spits at him, but it thankfully doesn't land. "You are a disgrace. You don't deserve husband."

She was dragged back inside the house and Ian could feel the heat of embarrassment pulsing through him. He knew there would be anger, but he didn't know the extent. Sometimes it's hard to realize the people you affect with your actions. He'd yet to realize that it wasn't just Mickey who was hurt. Wasn't just Mickey who he turned his back on. Ian had an entire other family.

Mickey closes the door with him and Ian on the same side plopping down onto the wooden steps and fishing for his cigarettes. He purposely took up the whole step letting Ian know he wasn't comfortable sitting next to him, which was okay. It's quiet for a minute as each of them struggle for an idea of what to say. What do you say in that situation?

"Whole family hates your guts."

That's one way to do it.

Ian nodded. "I get that."

"Mandy and Iggy were gonna come after you with a switch blade, but I talked 'em down."

"I appreciate that."

"Wasn't for your fuckin' benefit trust me. Didn't want to lose any more of my family. Milkovichs look after their own." He muttered.

"Was I? Your family?"

Mickey's eyes burned a deep blaze reminding Ian of the pain from his dream, the pain that Mickey had felt and he'd only gotten a glimpse of. It was difficult to look at.

"You were the only family that mattered."

Ian nodded sadly. "Yea, you too."

Mickey snorted. "Yea I could tell. That why you moved back home, to show me how much I mattered? You punch me in the face to show how much I mattered? Or was walking away while Sammi came after me with a fucking pistol to show how much I mattered?"

"I—I was sick Mickey. I wasn't thinking properly. I wasn't on my medication yet."

"Yea I knew that. And I was willing to deal with that. What, you thought I was just with you for your dick or something and when shit got crazy I was gonna bolt? I loved you. Gave you everything you asked for on a silver fucking platter and you spit in my face. What makes you think being here is okay?"

Ian kneeled before him wanting to reach out and touch him, wanting to take back everything he'd ever said.

"Because I didn't realize how badly it hurt for us not to be together. I thought I was protecting you. I thought I was gonna be like Monica and I was gonna hurt you and I was gonna hurt Yevgeny. I just didn't want you to feel like she made us feel. I wanted to give you an out. I'm so sorry Mickey."

Mickey lets out a shaky breath stubbing his cigarette in the ground. "That ain't how you made it feel. You destroyed me Ian."

"I know. I see that now. I'm not asking you to ignore your feelings, I'm just asking if there's a chance… if you could ever love me again."

He reaches involuntarily for Mickey's face, fingers slipping over delicate cheek bones and that spark is still there. It feels like a rush of adrenaline coursing through him making him feel more alive than he has in months. And Mickey flinches but doesn't pull away. They blink back the emotion, the fear, the pain but there's only so much that can be held back before it all comes rushing forwards.

"I'll always love you shithead. I fucking told you that. But fuck you hurt me so bad."

"I know I did, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." He whispered voice wet. "I love you Mickey."

"Shit, Ian."

When he hugs him he feels whole. The nightmare of his dreams can't touch him when they're together. He can smell him for the first time and nuzzle his face into his neck. It feels like coming up for air after being under water for such a long time. It feels like finding a soul mate you once lost. He never wants to let him go.

"I missed you so much." He whispered.

Mickey took a trembling breath and it felt like he was trying to find it within himself to pull away. Ian's arms tightened in response.

"I know what I did, but please don't leave. I—I need you."

When he does pull away Mickey's moves far away from the redhead moving to the top of the stairs. He wipes at his face and bites at his lip in confusion. Ian can see all the emotion washing over his face. All he wants to do is keep pushing, begging, but he knows that's not what Mickey needs right now.

"Go home Ian."

"M—Mickey please don't—"

"Go home." He insisted, cutting him off. "Lana takes Yev to some stupid tumbling class tomorrow. Supposed to help the kid with agility or some shit. You could . . . you could stop by while she's gone. Around noon."

Ian nodded enthusiastically, still looking a little desperate on the steps.

 "Okay. Okay, I'll be here."

"Just—I ain't getting' back in with you just like that. Show me you're good. And keep your shit together."

"I will."

Mickey sighed heading back for the door and Ian realized it was time to leave. A piece of him ignited in that moment though and instinct took over, all the instinct he'd felt with Mickey since he left surged through, and before he knew it he was bounding up the stairs and crashing their lips together. It was like Mickey was a life source and kissing him just pumped his soul full of it. He'd missed him so much, touching him was the greatest pleasure he'd ever known.

Mickey moaned softly into the kissing grabbing sharply as fistfuls of Ian's hair. This is what they were good at, this is what they knew. It was the rest of it that seemed to fuck them up. As the kiss came to a close Mickey nipped softly at Ian's lip tongue tracing the shape of it before he pulled away and smiled at his feet. Ian decided that he'd missed that smile most of all.

He separated their bodies giving Ian once last fleeting look before shoving him and turning for the door.

"Kiss me again and I'll cut your fucking tongue out."

The door slammed but all Ian could do was laugh. And he laughed all the way home. It was a start and it would have to do. For now.

 


End file.
